


You Were Here

by NoHappyEnding, ohdyoskai



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, NHE2017, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 10:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13702428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoHappyEnding/pseuds/NoHappyEnding, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohdyoskai/pseuds/ohdyoskai
Summary: This life has twists and turns.But it’s the sweetest mystery, when you’re with me.





	You Were Here

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** 2017-136  
>  **Pairing/Main character(s):** Kai/D.O.  
>  **Word count:** 17,710  
>  **Rating:** M  
>  **Warning(s):** ANGST, Vague!Jongin :(
> 
>  **Author's note:** For N. Thank you to my betas, D and TM for helping me and giving suggestions! I based this entire fic off Kyungsoo singing For Life in English at a costar’s wedding, waaay before Elyxion.

// _Christmas Eve 2016, Park Hyatt Gangnam_

 

Slow jazz and low lights. Kyungsoo looks the other way to finish his martini when an MBC executive passes by.

 

A year has passed since his debut as a soloist.

 

After wrapping up promotions for his third comeback, the agency informed him of several year-end party invites.

 

“Do I really have to go?” He’d asked, slumped tired on the cold meeting room desk. His manager Chanyeol tried to reason with the producers, but they all insisted with forced smiles.

 

It’s customary. All his sunbae and colleagues are going. It would be rude not to.

 

Kyungsoo raises his hand to ask for another drink.

 

He doesn’t fit in here. Events like these are usually meant for brushing elbows with celebrities and media giants, building connections, and catching people lip-locking or halfway out the closet.

 

A tall, transparent glass is placed in front of him. He mumbles a quick thanks when he moves to take his wallet out to pay.

 

Those are things he’d be better off not knowing. Honestly, he couldn’t care less. He has better things to do. Like clean his house, pet his puppies, pay his electricity bill.

 

“Kyungsoo!”

 

Chanyeol staggers over to the bar, excited. There is someone trailing behind him closely. Inside Kyungsoo’s drunken head, he lays out his first impression: Tall, revealing clothes, broad chest. A model?

 

“Kyungsoo, this is the guy everyone’s been talking about, Kim Jongin!!”

 

Handsome.

 

Even in the dim light with his head buzzing, Kyungsoo knows Jongin is breathtaking.

 

But he doesn’t let that get to him.

 

“Nice to meet you, D.O.-ssi,” Jongin smiles.

 

Kyungsoo grimaces. His stage name. “Just Kyungsoo is fine,” he smiles. Careful and polite.

 

In the seconds that it takes for Jongin to climb onto the stool next to him, Chanyeol excuses himself to call for the chauffeur. By experience, Kyungsoo knows it would take long. That and it’s Christmas Eve. Every car in Seoul must be out on the streets.

 

“Your manager’s really something, huh?” Jongin laughs. It’s hearty and full, disarming. “He approached me at the restroom and asked me, “Hey, aren’t you the ballet prodigy?!’ while I was busy trying to piss.”

 

Kyungsoo shrugs off the secondhand embarrassment. “You dance?”

 

Jongin lifts an eyebrow, obviously amused. He looks challenged for a second, like he’s ready with a comeback, but decides against it when Kyungsoo offers his drink.

 

“Please have it,” he says. “I wasn’t thinking when I ordered.” Now he’s way too smashed to drink any more than he has. “I already paid for it, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

 

Jongin looks down at it, tracing the rim with his eyes Then he looks back to Kyungsoo, tracing the curves of his eyes.

 

From there on, Kyungsoo doesn’t really remember. What else he said, or how the rest of the conversation went. But he can still see all of Jongin’s expressions. Clear and replaying in slow motion. The small details are also there. Like the way his eyes would crinkle at the corner, his deep laugh lines, the candle on the table between them.

 

“You’re really beautiful, you know?” One more things Kyungsoo remembers. Jongin ordering a glass of water and lifting it swift to his lips. Even if he tried to drink, Jongin’s burning stare made it difficult to concentrate.

 

“Do you.. Are you making fun of me?”

 

A glint sparks in Jongin’s eyes. “I’m not.”

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t look away. He doesn’t want to lose. Jongin directs his gaze to the crowd behind them. The shadows from the flickering candle dance on his skin.

 

Kyungsoo can’t believe it. He’d woken up this morning dreading three hours of socializing, yet now there is a really hot, attractive ballerino _flirting_ with him in the open. It was all too much.

 

He adjusts his position to face Jongin completely. Then it’s like the rest of the room has disappeared. The only people in the world—just them two.

 

“Jongin-ssi.”

 

“Just Jongin is okay.”

 

Kyungsoo smacks his lips together. “Jongin.”

 

Jongin’s eyes drop to his mouth. He mimics the action, “You have the nicest lips.”

 

Kyungsoo decides to ignore the statement. He doesn’t budge, even when Jongin swipes a thumb over his jaw, feeling the skin underneath.

 

“I wonder how they’d feel if I kissed you right now…”

 

Kyungsoo feels his breath hitch. The room spins, but it’s the alcohol. Just the alcohol. Nothing more, nothing else.

 

\--

 

It ended there.

 

Chanyeol cut their first meeting short, coming up and announcing the chaffeur’s arrival. He kept a hand on Kyungsoo’s back when they departed from the stuffy banquet hall.

 

On the way down, he rambled on about being glad to have met ‘Korea’s National Treasure.’ All the while Kyungsoo was stuck wondering _if that really happened_.

 

He blacked out soon but awoke in the morning with not just a bad hangover, but a business card in his front pocket.

 

He lifts it close to his face, reading with eyes barely adjusted to the sunlight.

 

Kim Jongin, ballerino

 

A neat, printed name, and stiff, formal contact details . Unlike stares that could melt, dim lights, a dancing flame..

 

\--

 

// January 2017

 

They meet again at another party in Itaewon.

 

Chanyeol isn’t with Kyungsoo this time. So it doesn’t take much for Jongin to find him and press up close.

 

“Hey,” he greets. His arms snakes around Kyungsoo’s lithe waist, as if they’ve already done so many times before.

 

Kyungsoo throws him a glare. “Kim Jongin.”

 

A crowd of three passes them, pushing Jongin closer. He’s wearing a crisp white top with five buttons left open. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and tucked into black denim. Kyungsoo wonders absentmindedly how cold he must feel. It’s got to be minus degrees out.

 

“I was waiting for your call, you know? You left me hanging,” Jongin pouts, taking Kyungsoo’s beer bottle. His lips miss a couple of times. Probably tipsy.

 

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo says. “I kind of forgot.”

 

He leans into Jongin’s shoulder, finding a more comfortable position. He doesn’t miss how Jongin relaxes into him.

 

“I saw the news. You’re doing Sleeping Beauty in April?”

 

Jongin beams. “Ohh, so you heard already! That makes me happy.” His chest vibrates slightly when he chuckles, touching Kyungsoo’s back.

 

“Do you want to come to the first show? I have two complimentary tickets. You can take your manager or… You know, someone else if you’re seeing anybody.”

 

Kyungsoo smirks to himself. “Ah, thank you. You didn’t have to..”

 

“So are you?” Jongin asks. “Are you seeing anybody?”

 

Kyungsoo bites his lip. Easy.

 

“No,” he replies. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

 

Jongin plants his chin on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. He pulls him closer, “Hmm..”

 

Kyungsoo adjusts his grip on his bottle. It’s slippery. He’s drunk, too. But obviously not as wasted as Jongin. “Don’t fall asleep now.”

 

“I won’t,” Jongin mumbles, burying his nose into Kyungsoo’s hair. “You’ll come see me, right?” He whispers sweetly, like a secret to share. “I’m a really great dancer. You’ll be impressed with me.”

 

Kyungsoo tips his head low, looking at the people that shuffle past them. “You’re very humble, aren’t you?”

 

“I want you to come,” Jongin sulks. He presses his cheekbones on the side of Kyungsoo’s head. His voice is low, lips right there and barely touching.

 

“Let me impress you? Come to my show.”

 

Kyungsoo drums the exposed forearms holding him close. He struggles to feign apathy but it’s getting hard to play this game. Especially with how Jongin’s lips are ghosting the shell of his ear—distracting.

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

Another bottle, or two, and soon they’re inside a taxi.

 

On the way to Jongin’s apartment, Kyungsoo loses count of how many times Jongin kisses him. His Lips, cheeks, the tip of his nose, closed eyelids. The ballerino does not leave any surface of his skin untouched. Kyungsoo relishes the feeling of large hands running over his body, rough with desire.

 

They halt at a driveway leading to an entrance. Jongin pays the driver a couple of thousand Won too many.

 

“Hush money,” he brags, when they walk to the entrance. “We can’t have any scandals happening now, can’t we? D.O.-ssi?”

 

The bastard. Kyungsoo hides his blush when they breeze through the reception and into steel elevators.

 

Jongin latches their lips together hungrily the moment the doors shut.

 

He moans in relief and reaches behind him to press the button to his floor, grinding their hips together. He lifts the fabric of where Kyungsoo’s shirt hikes up and snakes his hand inside, marking the untainted skin with his eager touch.

 

The elevator doors ding open. Kyungsoo lets out a soft whimper when Jongin pulls away regrettably. He holds his arm out and slaps Kyungsoo’s ass the moment they step out. Their hands seem to lock together naturally when they speed walk down the corridor to Jongin’s unit.

 

His apartment is smaller than expected. But that’s not important right now.

 

Kyungsoo’s pushed high up the wall next to the entrance. The force sends a few pairs of shoes toppling to the floor. If the walls are thin, Kyungsoo’s sure the neighbors definitely heard.

 

Jongin lips start devouring his. His moans are quickly muffled when he grabs at Jongin’s toned arms. It’s a first for him, engaging in a drunken tryst. Jongin is gorgeous and ripped—but he’s still someone Kyungsoo barely knows.

 

But that doesn’t matter, not when Jongin’s sucking hard on his neck, unforgiving. Needy fingers massage the growing bulge in his pants, fumbling to remove his belt.

 

Kyungsoo gasps for air when Jongin hisses. “Bedroom.”

 

It happens fast. Rumpled cotton sheets, toes curled in pleasure. Kyungsoo cups a hand to his mouth mindlessly when Jongin’s hips drill him into the bed. He cries when he clings onto tanned shoulders, moans when he digs heels into Jongin’s back when his spot is hit just right, earning a succession of high-pitched moans.

 

Jongin chuckles. He brushes off the hair that’s stuck to Kyungsoo’s sweaty forehead. Kyungsoo catches how his perfect teeth glisten. He’s so gorgeous.

 

“Feels good?”

 

Kyungsoo lets out a gasp when he feels those teeth latch onto his bottom lip, biting softly when big hands grope his behind in a silent rhythm. All the while he feels pleasure slide in and out of him. In and out, in and out.

 

When they finish, Kyungsoo feels his head clear up. Sober now. He watches quietly as Jongin clean up above him.

 

He moves across the one-room unit quickly, shooting the spent condom inside his trash bin and stacking dance magazines and thick bundles of paper, setting them aside neatly.

 

Kyungsoo looks around. He realizes the reason why Jongin’s place looks so small is because of all the cardboard boxes scattered around.

 

“Are you moving?”

 

Jongin looks up from the corner. “Ah.. yeah. I’m moving into a high-rise next month. My agency got me a new place overlooking Han River.”

 

Kyungsoo nods slowly, pondering. He’s a little jealous. Of course being a world-class ballerino has its perks.

 

“You’re going to be busy, then. Don’t stress yourself out.”

 

Jongin moves to the kitchen with two translucent trash bags. He gathers all the scrap material, discarded tape, forgotten receipts left on the two-person dining table and shoves them inside.

 

“You’re kind, hyung, thank you,” he smiles. “It’s hard to think how you were just screaming my name an hour ago,” he adds devilishly.

 

Kyungsoo clicks his tongue and Jongin laughs. He reaches up the cupboards, muscles flexing. Kyungsoo enjoys the view and ogles unashamedly.

 

Jongin brews him tea sent from England. There’s nostalgia in his eyes when he pours it inside a small mug with ridges. “From my mom,” he explains. “It’s her favorite.”

 

Kyungsoo observes how careful Jongin is when he puts the cup in front of him. He swirls the tea around and watches how the liquid tries to reach for the ledge.

 

How odd must this look? It isn’t everyday that Kyungsoo gets to hook up with someone.. then have tea afterwards.

 

He’s dated a few times and had a couple of one-night stands of his own, but he’s never experienced chatting casually like this after sex.

 

And it isn’t the least bit uncomfortable. Jongin is relaxed and welcoming, not awkward at all.

 

They stay like that, peacefully drinking their tea, stealing flirty glances every now and then. Then Jongin breaks the spell by reaching for Kyungsoo’s phone facedown on the table.

 

Kyungsoo lets him tinker with it. He’s calm when he pours himself more tea, watching curiously. He counts how many times Jongin blinks with the phone in his hands… One, two, three, four, five...

 

“Here you go.”

 

Jongin grins when returns Kyungsoo’s phone.

 

Looking at the screen, Kyungsoo lets out a chortle.

 

**New Contact: Prince Charming**

 

“Really?”

 

He quickly slides two tickets over to Kyungsoo. They’re for his show—Sleeping Beauty at Seoul Arts Center.

 

“You’re welcome,” he simpers. Kyungsoo wants to kiss that smug smirk out of his face. “Best seats in the house!”

 

They’re VVIP tickets. One seat costs as much as Kyungsoo’s monthly rent.

 

“Why are they so expensive?” Kyungsoo keeps them flat on the table, afraid of even touching them.

 

“Because _I’m_ principal,” Jongin reasons. He sounds like he’s talking about the simplest thing. “It means that I’m a lead dancer.”

 

“Hmm.” Is Jongin really that good? Kyungsoo reads the front part more carefully. He flips it after. There are just general reminders, like how latecomers will not be permitted entry and what time the show starts.

 

“So, can you come see me? The show starts on Saturday.” Jongin looks doubtful for once. His bed hair makes him look younger.

 

“I’ll think about it,” Kyungsoo teases.

 

Jongin wriggles in his seat and huffs, “If you come, I’ll go meet you after the show!” Normally, Kyungsoo would be tolerant even against his four year old niece’s aegyo, but for some reason he finds himself giving in.

 

“I’ll think about it,” he repeats, finishing what’s left of the kettle. Jongin remains pouting.

 

\--

 

In the end, Kyungsoo does go. He invites Jongdae, his best friend from high school.

 

Jongdae is a theater actor, so Kyungsoo figures he must be knowledgeable about these things. They arrive twenty minutes before the program starts, settling into their seats when the music hall is half-filled.

 

“I can’t believe you’re friends with Kim Jongin,” Jongdae snickers. He flips through the brochure they received. There are portraits of the dancers. Jongin’s is on the fifth page.

 

“We… hangout,” Kyungsoo says. Jongdae gives him a pointed look, to which he quickly surrenders to.

 

“Okay, we kind of.. fucked.. the second time we met. But we haven’t done anything since.”

 

“Sure,” Jongdae snickers. “Just fucking.”

 

He stops to stare at Jongin’s page. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you, Kyungsoo. I could’ve sworn you weren’t the type.”

 

Kyungsoo frowns. What is he talking about? It’s not like Jongdae hasn’t heard of his previous trysts. He’s usually even first to know. What is he implying?

 

“Normally, you never talk about stuff like this. Usually, you mention them by passing. Like, ‘I slept with so and so and they were okay,’ but it always ends there. But with this Jongin guy..”

 

Jongdae lifts the page to eye-level, straightening it out so the light hits Jongin’s face just right.

 

“You’re attending his show.. and even brought me along! Shit, are you guys getting married?”

 

Kyungsoo scoffs. Oh, so _that’s_ what Jongdae meant. “We’re just friends,” he explains.

 

“Okaaaay,” Jongdae drawls. He keeps a lazy grin on his face when he closes the brochure. “If you say so.” The show is starting in ten minutes.

 

They continue chatting until the lights grow dim. Once the orchestra chimes in, Kyungsoo allows himself to be lost in the music.

 

He’s never seen Sleeping Beauty before. Not even the Disney one. Jongdae keeps blabbering every ten minutes about something, so Kyungsoo more or else has an idea now of how the story is supposed to go.

 

The main dancer acting as Aurora is stunning and beautiful. Jongdae has commented “graceful, brilliant, excellent,” and “magnificent” within ten minutes of the First Act alone. Poor guy is going to run out of adjectives soon.

 

She moves light and precise, effortless. The Second Act ends with her pricking her finger on the needle (Jongdae says, “Oh my god, every _time_!!”) and promptly falling into a deep slumber.

 

After a short intermission, Jongin finally appears in Third Act.

 

He’s the first one to enter the stage.

 

The moment he waltzes in, Kyungsoo feels his heart gallop.

 

“Hey, your boyfriend is good!” Jongdae whispers. It’s loud enough for three rows behind them to hear, but Kyungsoo doesn’t move to berate him because he’s suddenly caught in a trance.

 

Jongin is like a chameleon. He knows how to look big, dominant and powerful; yet masterfully wraps that character in a false pretense of bravery when he finally encounters the tower where Aurora lays sleeping.

 

For the rest of the program, Kyungsoo is caught in the web Jongin’s weaved.

 

He lets himself fall further and further, mesmerized with every passionate shift. Every time Jongin moves, it’s smooth and seamless. So perfect and enticing that every shadow that falls on him paints him beautifully, dancing on his skin.  
  
Kyungsoo is speechless. His goosebumps have overstayed on his skin.

 

Jongin is unbelievably gifted. He’s incredible.

 

After the show, when the cast gathers for their curtain call, Kyungsoo can’t look away from Jongin. He’s beaming, shining—basking in the applause and warmth he’s earned. It’s then that Kyungsoo understands.

 

The stage is where he belongs.

 

\--

 

Jongin texts Kyungsoo to tell him his home address, so he replies without thinking. Two hours later, the ballerino is in his downtown apartment, sucking hickeys onto his freshly showered neck.

 

“Look at you,” Kyungsoo gasps. “Just finished a show and the first thing you do is attack me inside my house.”

 

Jongin chuckles when he tongues over a red bruise. “I can't help it.” He draws back to watch it change color, fascinated. “Did I impress you?”

 

Kyungsoo laughs. “What?”

 

Jongin opens his legs on Kyungsoo’s three-seater couch. He holds him by the waist with one hand when Kyungsoo straddles him. The other opens a bottle of lube from the table beside them.

 

“I gave a hundred and ten percent today.. because I knew you were coming.”

 

His eyes are hooded when he rakes fingers through Kyungsoo’s damp hair, ruffling it dry gently. “I knew Kyungsoo hyung’s eyes were on me, so I gave it my all.”

 

Ridiculous. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Kim Jongin, you really are crazy.”

 

“And you’re cute and irresistible,” Jongin chuckles. He leans forward to breathe in the other side of Kyungsoo’s neck, rendering him boneless. His mouth is sucking desperately again. He’s not playing around.

 

Jongin presses his forehead to Kyungsoo’s when he slicks two fingers in lube.

 

“Why do you make me feel this way? Every time I see you.. It drives me insane, like I’m under a spell.”

 

He claims Kyungsoo’s lips and drinks in his hisses of pain when he stretches him.

 

“I can’t get enough.”

 

Kyungsoo reaches for his erection to ease the discomfort. He tries to imagine Jongin’s tongue on his slit instead of his thumb. “A-Are you saying that to me or my body?”

 

“I don’t know yet,” Jongin admits. He wets another finger and adds it in. “All I know is, I want you..” He twists to the side and earns a needy groan, “..Need you.”

 

Jongin slides his cock right in and gets to fucking.

 

Kyungsoo discovers that Jongin likes to be rough and in control. He’s so damn good that Kyungsoo can’t help but let him take over. He loses count of how many times his ass is slapped, hair is pulled. If he looks in the mirror tomorrow, he’s sure he’ll be covered in all sorts of bruises no concealer would be able to cover.

 

Jongin pulls out and pumps himself to completion above Kyungsoo’s face. He aims his cockhead above heart-shaped lips and lets out a long, satisfied moan when he comes. White covers absolutely everything. He doesn’t miss a spot.

 

They go at it a second time, and then a third. By the time the sky’s turned light, Kyungsoo heaves naked on his bed stripped of its covers, Jongin the same beside him.

 

He’s dead exhausted. Maybe the last time he was this tired was when he had dance practice that went until the morning.

 

Jongin is kind enough to drag a forgotten blanket from the floor back to cover their bodies. He snuggles up to Kyungsoo immediately, and neither of them complains about the unpleasant slide of sweat, or the general dampness of it all.

 

“Hyung, are you still awake?”

 

Kyungsoo groans in reply. “Why?”

 

“Mmm,” Jongin hums. He rubs his cheek on Kyungsoo’s shoulder blade softly. Like he wasn’t just fucking his brains out.

 

“Let’s talk.”

 

Kyungsoo pauses to consider. It’s probably 5 in the morning and he has work in a couple of hours. “Okay.”

 

Jongin hides a shy smile. “I want to thank you for coming to my show.”

 

Kyungsoo laughs from his chest. It’s funny how that’s the first thing Jongin tells him. He was too preoccupied trying to get into Kyungsoo’s pants the moment he set foot in this apartment.

 

“It’s my pleasure. My friend and I were very moved by your performance.”

 

Jongin stops to lift his head. He narrows his eyes at Kyungsoo through messy bangs.

 

“Friend?”

 

“Jongdae, my friend from high school,” Kyungsoo grins wider when Jongin starts to look suspicious. “Don’t even bother. He’s like a brother to me.”

 

Jongin settles back into Kyungsoo’s arm, pushing himself closer this time, as if to prove a point.

 

They talk that way. Close (only physically, Kyungsoo insists), like it’s the most normal thing.

 

He tells Jongin about his family.

 

He mentions how his parents are doing well, how his brother is with his wife in Incheon and that they’re expecting a son in June. He also mentions work, with how Chanyeol is always, somehow, weirdly—ready to take a bullet for him.

 

“That’s cool in a way,” Jongin mumbles. His lips are soft against his skin. The sensation tingles more than it should.

 

Jongin talks about his family, too. His sisters, nieces and babies.

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes shoot open. The first rays of sunlight cast shadows from the windowpane.

 

“Babies?! You have kids?”

 

Jongin laughs sleepily. He smushes the side of his face on Kyungsoo’s collarbone this time. “Puppies. We have three poodles at home.”

 

“Puppies,” Kyungsoo echoes. “You talk about them like you’re their dad.” His voice is cracking. The lack of sleep is getting to him, but he still wants to talk to Jongin more.

 

“Hyung..”

 

“...Yeah?” His reply is delayed by a few seconds. He  would inch his face down if he were a bit more awake, but they’re both hanging on to the last strings of consciousness. Neither of them wants to surrender to that temptation just yet.

 

“I really like talking to you..”

 

Jongin licks his lips. His breath fans out on Kyungsoo’s naked chest when he exhales—shivers, electrifying.

 

“Can we keep doing this?” He asks, eyes closed now. “I promise.. it won’t get in the way… with anything... I just.. really like being with you..”

 

Kyungsoo smiles. Finding a reply isn’t necessary. He runs gentle fingers through Jongin’s hair, instead, finding the light from outside divine on his skin.

 

\--

 

// February 2017

 

Now they see each other more often, whenever their schedules permit.

 

They rendezvous always at his place or Jongin’s. Exclusive. They don’t need to have sex all the time, and Kyungsoo really appreciates it. Sometimes he just needs someone to listen when he complains and unloads. (But when they _do_ have sex—it’s always mind-blowing.)

 

Tonight, Kyungsoo texts Jongin he’s on his way.

 

‘Prince Charming’ has stayed on top of his Kakao log for three weeks. He knows this because the only other people he messages are his mom, Chanyeol and Jongdae—and that’s only because he doesn’t have a choice when it comes to them.

 

The moment he arrives at Jongin’s apartment, he’s taken aback by a kiss.

 

Kyungsoo blinks, unsure of what to do, but Jongin’s already gone back inside, saying something about how a package from his mom just came in, and the kiss is quickly forgotten.

 

A mint green pot sits on the coffee table in the center. Jongin sits on the carpet to pour Kyungsoo some tea. This time, from Europe, a brand whose name Kyungsoo is sure he’ll butcher if he ever tries to pronounce. He thanks Jongin and appreciates the fullness of the taste when it spreads on his tongue.

 

“It’s nice,” he says, so Jongin pours him another fill. The way he’s looking all soft and attentive has Kyungsoo feeling pampered. He wonders for a second if Jongin sees him like one of his puppies.

 

“How’s work?” Jongin asks.

 

Kyungsoo looks down at his cup. “It’s okay, I guess.” This tea is darker than the one he had last time. There are a few leaves still floating around. “We’re discussing my comeback now.”

 

Jongin keeps an interested expression. “Oh?” Only one corner of his lips is tugged up, and it’s unnerving how smitten Kyungsoo is. “I haven’t heard you sing yet.”

 

“Then you should buy my CD once it’s out,” Kyungsoo chuckles. “Or stream it, whatever. Vote for me on music shows.”

 

Jongin laughs even though Kyungsoo isn’t sure if he understands.

 

“I will!”

 

They finish the tea and Kyungsoo transfers to the couch. The sound of the faucet running fills the small apartment. He waits for Jongin to finish washing the dishes.

 

“I keep getting Prince roles,” Jongin says. The change of tone makes Kyungsoo focus a little bit more. “The thing with these roles, though, is that they’re all different from each other.”

 

He scrubs the insides of the pot vigorously. “Last time for Swan Lake—I acted as a spoiled brat. All stiff and stuck-up. I never lowered my head to anyone, because I was raised with a silver spoon in my mouth.”

 

Next, he puts a soapy sponge away. Kyungsoo watches how the foam trickles down the sink. It dissolves when Jongin splashes it with some water.

 

“That’s why, when Giselle and I had to part, I couldn’t express my feelings properly. Because I never learned how.”

 

He pauses, hanging the clean pot and cups on the drier. “This time for Sleeping Beauty, I act as a prince who wakes Aurora up after a hundred years of sleep. We don’t know each other and there’s a huge age gap, but I kiss her the first time we meet. Disgusting, right?”

 

His arms flex underneath his thin cotton shirt. Kyungsoo, of course—stares. “Yeah, that’s pretty creepy.”

 

The mood changes drastically when Jongin finally makes his way the sofa. He puts an arm around Kyungsoo to pull him closer, until he’s on Jongin’s lap again, digging into his crotch.

 

Kyungsoo sucks his stomach in when light hands settle above his belt buckle. He faintly wonders if he should ask more about Jongin’s prince roles, but all of that vanishes once his chin is nudged up slowly.

 

“Hyung, I dreamt about you last night.”

 

Kyungsoo snorts. “Is that a pickup line?”

 

“We were right here...talking” Jongin continues, too turned on to humor Kyungsoo with a comeback.

 

“I had my mouth right here,” he hovers above Kyungsoo’s lips, barely touching. “And my hand like this,” he places it dangerously near Kyungsoo’s inner thigh.

 

Jongin’s eyelashes are touching his. So close and intimate. Kyungsoo feels like he could melt along with the rapid tightening in his pants. Hard to breathe.

 

“But right before I got to the best part—I woke up. Life’s unfair that way, huh?”

 

Every word has their lips brushing, touching, sliding together, but it never kissing. Kyungsoo truly feels like breaking down. He’s going to lose his _mind._

 

“Kyungsoo hyung,” Jongin smirks. His eyes are burning—inviting.

 

“Don’t you want to find out what happens next?”

 

Playing with fire is worth the risk.

 

Kyungsoo plunges, giving himself if.

 

\--

 

Rows of houses in the suburbs.

 

Kyungsoo is inside the company car with Chanyeol on the driver’s seat when they pull up in front of a familiar two-storey residence.

 

The engine whirs on. It takes a few minutes of waiting until a vibrantly-dressed young man runs out of the front door, locking the gate after him. He rushes over to the passenger’s seat and apologizes for the inconvenience.

 

It’s Baekhyun, Chanyeol’s fiancé. He still lives with his parents so Chanyeol picks him up when he needs to go meet clients sometimes.

 

“Hey, Kyungsoo! How’s the album doing?” Whenever he speaks, his mouth turns into a cute 3-shaped grin. His whole upper torso is turned to face the backseat.

 

“Um, it’s okay,” Kyungsoo says. He’s a little worried for Baekhyun’s safety.

 

“Kyungsoo is really nitpicky this time,” Chanyeol answers. He sounds like he knows better. “He wants his comeback to be perfect so he’s been staying longer in the studio but nothing satisfies him. Hwang PD was really pissed last time.”

 

Chanyeol side-eyes Kyungsoo’s through the rearview mirror when he maneuvers out of the narrow side street. “She wouldn’t take it out on you, so I had to bear the brunt of it.”

 

Baekhyun hits his bicep to shush him but Kyungsoo lets the remark slide. He’s used to Chanyeol acting passive-aggressive. It used to be a lot worse when he just debuted.

 

“As expected of our perfectionist, D.O.-nim!!” Baekhyun beams. He’s trying to appease the air around them. “Oh, did you thank him already, Chanyeollie? Or should I do it?”

 

Chanyeol reaches over to switch the radio station from jazz to something more upbeat. “No, I haven’t yet.”

 

Baekhyun faces the backseat again. The sun from the windshield turns his hair into a light grey. “Thanks for agreeing to be our best man, Kyungsoo! It really means a lot to us.”

 

Kyungsoo lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you were thinking when you decided on me.”

 

“Oh, don’t be like that!” Baekhyun chortles. “We all know there’s no one else better than you.”

 

“Still.”

 

“He’s gonna sit his bitter ass in one corner the whole night and glare at people, Baek,” Chanyeol snickers, he turns left when they finally reach the highway.

 

“Hey, Kyungsoo isn’t as heartless as you make him out to be!

 

“I _am_ heartless, Baek,” Kyungsoo deadpans.

 

“Anyway, we’ll send out invitations when we finalize the venue.” Chanyeol continues. “We’re looking at five places, but Baek’s really particular about the lighting.”

 

“Gotta look perfect on my special day!” Baekhyun reasons, throwing in a wink.

 

“I’m sure you’ll both look handsome no matter what,” Kyungsoo says. Absentmindedly, he remembers the list Chanyeol showed him this morning, seven bullet points of stuff he has to get done by today.

 

He leans back on his headrest and closes his eyes, the sound of Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s voices in the background.

 

Work has been tough lately.

 

It’s fast-paced and tiring. There are only twenty four hours in a day, but Kyungsoo’s starting to feel like it goes by twice that long.

 

He’s been sleeping less and coming home in the morning. He barely even has time to eat, and with all the people barking in his ear—it’s enough to make him doubt why he’s still here.

 

Glancing outside, Kyungsoo observes the familiar scenery. Passing over Han River, cars zooming past him, blurry. He thinks about Hwang PD, and what Chanyeol said. There’s always that pressure to produce music constantly, to exceed expectations, to _sell_.

 

Lifting a finger to draw a straight stripe on the misty glass, Kyungsoo wonders.. When was the last time he felt happy? When did he truly feel like he enjoyed what he was doing?

 

Singing, he feels, is something he still likes to do. But it’s the very thing weighing him down—preventing him from moving forward.

 

\--

 

// _April 2016_

 

Rows of clothes hung on the steel racks before him.

 

Chanyeol is standing closely beside the stylist when she reads through her thick binder of clothing descriptions.

 

“This is from All Saints, from their Autumn/Winter collection.”

 

Her voice fades into obscurity. Kyungsoo doesn’t really bother with designer labels. If he likes it, he’ll wear it.

 

He runs his fingers down the long sleeves of a knit sweater. Next, he turns his attention to a white blazer. He spaces out. He jolts up when Chanyeol elbows him to listen. The stylist is gestures to a green top that’s too flashy for his taste.

 

“...this was also worn by Kim Jongin in his recent magazine shoot—”

 

Kyungsoo stills. “What did you say?”

 

It’s extremely uncharacteristic of him, so the stylist stops, momentarily stunned. Chanyeol takes notice of it too and Kyungsoo doesn’t miss the way his eyes glint the slightest, analyzing his face.

 

She takes the top from the dressing rack and smoothes the creases down neatly. Chanyeol steps back to see when she holds it up.

 

It’s a deep green short-sleeve with flowers all over in white, blue, and yellow. The design is very intricate and sophisticated, yet playful and intriguing. He can definitely see Jongin wearing this kind of clothing

 

“Wacko Maria,” She says. “A Japanese brand. We’ve flown this in exclusively for your shoot.”

 

Chanyeol lets out an appreciative whistle when he peeps the price tag.

 

“It’s nice, Soo-yah. I think it’s a good break from your usual concept.”

 

Kyungsoo nods, feeling convinced. He quickly decides on the top, along with four others. Before the stylist moves the hangers to a different stand, he snaps a photo of the green top, typing out a message before sending it to Jongin.

 

“That’s a first.” Chanyeol states, hovering over Kyungsoo’s shoulder.

 

“What is?”

 

“You were interested in a shirt!”

 

Kyungsoo looks him over. “So?”

 

“You’re _never_ into clothes,” Chanyeol presses, grinning slyly. Kyungsoo tries to evade more questions by locking his phone and walking to his seat in front of the mirror. Chanyeol follows closely behind.

 

“So, _Kim Jongin_?”

 

Kyungsoo ignores him, plopping down unto his chair. It creaks against the floor.

 

“You’re getting along with him, aren’t you? Is that why I haven’t been seeing you around recently? Is that why you’ve been turning down my drinking invitations?”

 

“No one wants to drink with you and Baek,” Kyungsoo points out. He peels Chanyeol’s hand off his shoulder. “You two are disgusting.”

 

His phone buzzes and he quickly unlocks it. Chanyeol tries to sneak a peek, but Kyungsoo shoves him out of his space.

 

**Sleepy Prince**

Miss me already?

 

“Sleepy Prince!” Chanyeol gushes. That’s the nickname Jongin is known for. “So it is him!”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kyungsoo huffs, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

 

“You like him, Soo.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

Chanyeol wiggles his eyebrows. He crosses his arms and folds one leg on top of the other, “You never look at your phone during work. Even in the car—never. But recently, you’re glued to it anytime you aren’t doing anything. There must be something going on between you and Jongin if it’s getting this serious!”

 

“Believe in what you want to,” Kyungsoo murmurs. The door swings open and a different set of people come in. They’re all carrying several shoeboxes.

 

Chanyeol stands up to make space. He drags his chair to the side as expensive footwear is lined at the center of the room.

 

“Just be careful, Kyungsoo,” He whispers. He’s crouched beside Kyungsoo so no one else can hear. “Don’t get hurt, okay?”

 

An uncomfortable premonition. Kyungsoo blanks out before he smiles in response. The stylist calls for him and he raises a hand to signal he’s coming.

 

“I won’t.”

 

\--

 

One thing Kyungsoo knows about Jongin, is that he loves ballet more than anything.

 

He knows this because always sees Jongin stretching, practicing small bits of his routine when he can. When they text, it’s always either about asking how Kyungsoo is, or discussing progress with his dancing.

 

“I want to jump higher than anyone else,” Jongin says once, in the evening when they’re on their phones and Kyungsoo’s stolen some time off his meetings. “I love it when people look at me in awe. I love it when I get to be another person.”

 

“You love attention,” Kyungsoo corrects.

 

“I do!” Jongin admits. His voice is deep and soothing. Kyungsoo feels like he could heal this way, all his stress taken away by just listening.

 

“I love it when people approach me after a show and tell me how much they were moved by my performance. It makes me feel.. How do I say this? It makes me feel like, like I’ve done something for them. Like my dancing helps people.”

 

It’s the same with singing, Kyungsoo thinks. The power to touch people through dancing is just as strong.

 

Jongin is dedicated, so driven for his career. He never gets tired of it. He’s never thought of quitting.

 

Kyungsoo is jealous, definitely.

 

Though he loves singing, sometimes he just wants to smash his microphone across the wall in frustration. But Jongin isn’t like that. Jongin practices without rest until everything is perfect. He’s never satisfied until everything is absolutely flawless. And that’s something Kyungsoo can only ever hope for.

 

On the way home, he stares at a Sleeping Beauty advertisement at a bus stop.

 

The dates have been extended because of the show’s increasing popularity. Kyungsoo’s seen it in the news recently, too. More and more people have become interested because of Jongin. They recognize him now, want to get to know him—idolize him. And he didn’t even have to try.

 

Kyungsoo looks on adoringly.

 

Jongin is poised behind the ballerina with his arms stretched outwards. He’s smiling, shining. Beautiful even through an LED screen.

 

\--

 

The automatic door swings open and Kyungsoo climbs out of the taxi in one swift movement.

 

Tonight he’s wearing a navy sweater over straight khakis, paired with his well-worn black Doc Martens. His hair is newly-dyed auburn. The wind tousles it a bit when he finds Jongin already seated inside the lobby, scrolling away on his phone.

 

Kyungsoo halts when he takes in Jongin’s appearance. A loose pullover and track pants. This guy could make even a garbage bag look good.

 

He tugs on his face mask, moving forward until he’s settled beside the ballerino. Jongin takes notice first.

“Hey.”

 

“Hey,” Kyungsoo sighs. Jongin reaches out for his back, straightening it thoughtfully where it starts to curve.

 

“How are you?”

 

“Bad.”

 

He doesn’t want to explain. Not now. “I just want to leave—get away from it all.”

 

Kyungsoo turns abruptly and Jongin almost falls off of his seat.

 

“Could you take me somewhere? I don’t care where, I just want to be in a place where I can think clearly.”

 

Kyungsoo knows he’s never been spontaneous. Always taking calculated risks, selecting safe choices. Jongin knows it too.

 

Kyungsoo studies his expressions carefully--from how his eyebrows quirk the slightest, how his gaze turns mild, then burning again, just like that night, like a switch has been turned on.

 

Jongin’s lips curl up when he squeezes Kyungsoo’s hand reassuringly.

 

“Okay.”

 

They board a new taxi. Jongin talks to the driver, his voice a little shaky and distant as Kyungsoo stares at the passing greenery. They arrive at their destination with hardly any delay.

 

Han River.

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything. He just stands there as Jongin pays for their fare. Too many thoughts are running through his head. He likens them to the number of clouds there are right now in the sky.

 

Jongin bumps his shoulder hesitatingly. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before taking you here. Would you rather someplace else?” He’s genuinely concerned. His little bottom lip is sticking out the slightest bit too, and it is so endearing.

 

“No, I wouldn’t have gone if I didn’t trust you.”

 

The worry is extinguished slowly from Jongin’s face. He smiles warmly and weaves their hands together. It’s then that Kyungsoo feels his heart clench a bit. Not the first time, but stronger.

 

“Let’s sit.”

 

They find a nice, quiet spot with an open view of the city and hardly any people. Jongin settles on the grass and pats the ground next to him. Kyungsoo hesitates, remembering his khakis, but gives in eventually. Jongin knows how to work his puppy eyes to his advantage.

 

It’s prickly and a little damp. Kyungsoo regrets his decision immediately.

 

“Jongin-ah,” he whines. “This was a bad idea.”

 

“Shh,” Jongin tells him. “This is the best place to be. No distractions.” Only us two.

 

He puts a hand on Kyungsoo’s shoulder to press soothing circles into his skin. It’s windy today, but less humid than usual.

 

“Care to tell me how you’re faring?” Jongin asks.

 

Kyungsoo keeps his eyes trained forward when he frowns. He’s not sure where to start.

 

“It’s work,” he sighs. “I’m starting to really get suffocated with everything.”

 

“I got into a fight with my producer,” Kyungsoo goes on, after a few seconds of contemplating. “Today was just.. One of those days where nothing in the world was right. I overslept because my body clock’s been fucked up, then she lashed out on me because I just couldn’t—decide on some things. That was when I walked out and went to your place.”

 

He remembers to stop and take a breath. All the while Jongin looks at him, comforting. Kyungsoo calms a bit.

 

“The truth is, I just feel really trapped. I’ve—I’ve wanted to try out singing ballads because I was inspired, you know?”

 

He musters a weak smile and connects their gazes. Jongin sucks his lips in when he admires the pretty shine in Kyungsoo’s eyes.

 

“When I saw you on stage dancing, I was listening to the orchestra and watching your every move. It was so beautiful, and it made me want to try singing that way, too.”

 

For a second Kyungsoo looks close to tears. But he tears his head away before his face falters, forcing a scoff instead.

 

“Obviously, they wouldn’t have that. Ballads won’t make them money as much as my usual songs would.”

 

Jongin tightens his hold and Kyungsoo moves near. “I guess that’s why I snapped. All the pressure’s been making me lose passion for what I’m doing.”

 

He moves his other arm to embrace Kyungsoo. They fit perfectly. It’s warm and so, so right like this. Now even the wind can’t touch him.

 

“I think you should take this in, think about it and learn from it. I’m sure your producer is reflecting on this, too.”

 

The lights from the city reflecting on the moving water look like they’re glittering. “It’s okay to feel lost. We all have those moments.”

 

Jongin places his chin on Kyungsoo’s bony shoulder. A habit he’s picked up. He really likes doing this. In his apartment, on Kyungsoo’s bed, watching TV. Jongin loves talking with their faces near like this.

 

“There’s a lot of people behind you, Kyungsoo. We’re all here to support you in whatever you choose to do. I’m sure your fans would love anything you sing. I know I would.”

 

Kyungsoo cracks up bitterly. “You haven’t even heard me sing.”

 

“I have!” Jongin insists, looking at him.“I have all your CDs. They’re in my room.”

 

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, ignoring the spot on his cheek Jongin’s lips graze lightly. “Sure.”

 

Jongin presses a small kiss like it’s nothing before moving up to mumble on his temple. “You think I’m lying? I even bought your posters to put up on my walls,” he grins. “So that I can always see you.”

 

Kyungsoo tries to wiiggle away, but Jongin only holds on tighter. “Gross.”

 

Jongin giggles when he smooches Kyungsoo’s cheek again.

 

Nothing unusual. Nothing out of the ordinary.

 

But this time, the world stops. Kyungsoo feels his heart race.

 

Jongin carries on, rubbing his nose on pale skin. “Oh, by the way, I’m leaving the country for a bit. I’ll probably see you in two weeks’ time.”

 

His hand creeps back to trace the veins translucent through the back of Kyungsoo’s hand. “Sorry I can’t make it for your comeback.”

 

‘Comeback.’ Jongin knows. He looked it up. He knows the exact date.

 

Kyungsoo shakes his head in understanding. It helps to divert his attention from the rapid beating in his chest.

 

“It’s okay, Jongin-ah.” No big deal. “Do your best.” I’d rather watch your shows if I could.

 

Jongin smiles. He cradles Kyungsoo’s small hand before lifting it to his face, humming appreciatively. And there it is again.

 

“I’m buying your album when I get back,” He says, nonchalantly, like it’s nothing. But a promise, too. “I hope I can get a fansign pass.”

 

Kyungsoo molds his hand into the shape of Jongin’s face. Holding hands is not a big deal for Jongin, so it shouldn’t be for him, too. “If you want it so much, I’ll personally sign it for you.”

 

Jongin pouts cutely, shaking his head. “It’s no fun if I don’t win! I’m gonna enter the lottery. I wanna see how lucky I am.”

 

“Idiot.” Kyungsoo wills the tightening of his chest to go away when he takes his hand back but it doesn’t.

 

The night has to end eventually. He’s bothered because he doesn’t want to leave. When he sees Jongin, it exhilarates him; at the same time he feels like crying.

 

On the way to the taxi stand, Kyungsoo slows his steps.  

 

A name to this feeling crosses his head, but Jongin turns around before he can acknowledge it.

 

His hair looks soft when a gentle breeze pushes it out his face. Kyungsoo marvels in envy, wondering how it must feel, to be the wind, touching someone so beautiful...

 

“Hyung! You okay?”

 

Jongin now—unlike their first meeting—is in lounge clothes, barefaced with messy hair. This is the most unglamorous, glaringly honest version of him, with nothing to hide. A side of him no one else gets to see, a side Kyungsoo wishes he could see everyday. Over and over, and knows he’ll never get tired of.

 

It’s then that Kyungsoo feels it. A mind-clearing realization washes over him. The kind that washes out the doubt in his chest and fills it up with a new, fuller, feeling that’s impossibly light, but so hopelessly heavy as well.

 

It’s here at Han River, that Kyungsoo realizes where he truly is.

 

The old him, the one from months ago, would have probably laughed and mocked him. He’d pull Jongin by the collar and whisper in his ear, suggestive and condescending, “ _What if I told you I was in love with you?_ ”

 

But now, it’s different.

 

He nods once before catching up.

 

Their steps fall into place, and for the first time, Kyungsoo stiffens when their arms brush.

 

He’s been feeling for Jongin more, and it’s thawing the cold cracks of his heart away; what’s melted, heavy and deep in his chest.

 

The longing, the lingering touches—grappling for the tiny seconds he can patch together to steal some time—along with Jongin’s indifference. Kyungsoo’s long overstepped the boundary between what they have and the shaky, problematic line that he can’t define.

 

The turbulence in his chest picks up. Which each step he takes, the feeling starts to grow.

 

\--

 

// _June 2016_

 

It’s Wednesday.

 

Normally, Kyungsoo would be lounging in bed with a good book and hot tea, or in front of his TV speeding through the channels, but tonight he’s riding Jongin, finally—moaning loudly while bouncing on his giant dick.

 

He’s back from London. Fresh from the airport. He was supposed to arrive around mid-May, but his trip was extended until the first week of June. He’d phoned Kyungsoo the moment he landed and asked for them to meet. He was breathless and excited. Kyungsoo could hear the smile in his voice.

 

Now, they’re at Jongin’s apartment. The one he moved into last March. It was an hour ago when they slid Jongin’s suitcases into the living room. After that, Kyungsoo remembers his chin being tipped up gently, and Jongin angling their lips together in an unfamiliar, passionate kiss.

 

Right now, he’s shuddering, uselessly trying to draw his knees together when Jongin pumps his begging cock. Another hand flies to grope his plump behind, kneading firmly as his hips are guides up and down to the motion of their thrusts.

 

“Can you squeeze down there for me, babe?”

 

Jongin’s breath is hot and eager when he swipes his tongue on Kyungsoo’s jaw.

 

Kyungsoo’s so turned on that he can only obey mindlessly, high on lust and desire. He twists his groin faster, making sure to suck in Jongin the best he can.

 

“Fuck yeah..”

 

He lets out a whimper when Jongin bites down on his bottom lip harshly. He makes out hooded eyes and full lips stretched out in pleasure. “I missed you so much, hyung. Missed this _ass_..”

 

Kyungsoo yelps when a large hand strikes down at the last word, marking his pale skin, earning a needy moan.

 

Jongin grips him harshly—possessively. “There’s no one like you.”

 

He speeds up and the pleasure heightens. Kyungsoo has to pause for a moment, struggling. He has to take care not to get too choked up, but it’s too overwhelming. He bears everything, letting himself be drawn more and more into this endless abyss. He places his palms steady on a muscular, tan chest.

 

From this angle, he can see everything.

 

The way Jongin’s defined muscles flex when he plunges in, the angry strain of his forehead veins, his breathy sighs that fill the air in time with Kyungsoo’s needy, desperate moans...

 

He counts the beads of sweat on Jongin’s sideburn, traces the wet lines that slide down his temple, the high slope of his nose, his upper lip—that he reaches up to lap at coquettishly. Jongin chuckles and gives him a light smooch. It’s casual, but warm, so comforting. Soothing.

 

 _Terrifying_. Because Kyungsoo, truly, genuinely, knows he missed Jongin this much, too.

 

Sex—is supposed to be about feeling, getting lost in the moment and reaching that peak. Not cuddling, kissing— _liking_ —how Jongin sits up to nestle his nose into the crook of his neck and wishing he’d stay like that forever. Sex like this is unthinkable. This is unchartered territory.

 

The thought disappears when his legs are hoisted up. Jongin switches their positions, bending Kyungsoo in half expertly, complementing his flexibility when thin ankles lock behind his nape.

 

The new position introduces a new depth, an even better sensation that Kyungsoo wants to run after.

 

Jongin presses a kiss to his forehead, “What time’s your meeting tomorrow?”

 

Kyungsoo pants when he’s pounded hard into the queen-sized bed. “N-Nine!”

 

“You can push that back to ten, right?” Jongin stirs his hips roughly, as if to prove a point.

 

Kyungsoo groans, dropping his head back into the pillow. Jongin’s cock slides up and into that spot, drawing a loud whimper from his puffy lips.

 

“You can push it back to ten for me, right?”

 

No, Kyungsoo thinks. Of course I can’t. He can’t ditch his job with no valid reason. Especially now that it’s comeback season, but the words aren’t coming.

 

He’s stuck to a script of pleasured sounds and Jongin’s name, caught in a siege, right in the palm of Jongin’s hand—or around his dick, for that matter.

 

The man above him beams, “Good.”

 

He bucks forward to thrust mindlessly, whispering sweet nothings, blending them with dirty compliments that Kyungsoo accepts, anyway.

 

It doesn’t take long before they curl up into each other, surrendering to the rhythm. He climaxes with a silent scream.

 

\--

 

They don’t sleep. Not yet.

 

Time is but an illusion, pushed haphazardly at the back of their minds and made the littlest of their cares when they perch on white dock chairs at the balcony. It’s somewhere in between spring and summer, when the days are finally warmer, but the nights still cold enough for them to shiver. Here some ten floors above ground, they huddle together with their ankles touching, inside a thin blanket thrown over cotton pajamas.

 

Jongin talks about London, his training, and the impromptu audition that caused him to extend his trip.

 

This time, it’s for The Nutcracker.

 

Kyungsoo admires the sparkle in his eyes when he talks. He likes the way Jongin mouths syllables perfectly, his lips round and full. The corners don’t ever droop because this role is so important. Jongin says if he passes, he’s going to be the first Asian to ever lead.

 

“That’s only if I ever pass, though,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to the side of Kyungsoo’s head. As if asking him to forget.

 

Unconsciously, Kyungsoo inches closer until Jongin drapes an arm around him. He keeps himself glued there, until Jongin takes his right hand into his left.

 

“Seoul is definitely home,” Jongin sighs, smiling over Kyungsoo’s bony knuckles. “No matter where I go, this is always the place I’m most me.”

 

He carries that hand to his broad chest, pressing lightly above the spot where his heart is. The lights are turned off from inside, so it’s only the moonlight casting shadows down their skin.

 

Kyungsoo looks at his hand resting perfectly on Jongin’s chest and feels the tip of his nose grow heavy, his eyes, ready to water with the weight of everything the two of them could be.

 

But Jongin doesn’t notice. Only the night passes through, taking what’s left of the cold, ushering in the summer.

 

He smiles at Kyungsoo and tells him softly, almost silent, and almost a lie, “And you, of course, I always come back to you.”

 

\--

 

// July 2017

 

On one of those rare days he’s allowed to work from home, Kyungsoo decides to go to Jongin’s apartment. He finds his place in the middle of the living room, fumbling on his laptop.

 

Jongin isn’t home yet, so Kyungsoo’s alone. He let himself in using the spare key Jongin gave him.

 

It’s silver with a loopy, cursive _‘K’_ engraved in the middle. Jongin gave it to him when they met up for tteokbokki last week. He said to come by anytime, grinning, meeting Kyungsoo’s awestruck eyes through the steam clouding their faces.

 

Around seven, Jongin returns home in a bad mood. Kyungsoo’s chest clenches the moment he hears the front door open. Once Jongin sees him, he collects him into his arms and smiles “Hi.”

 

“Hello,” Kyungsoo says. He tries to ignore how comfortable they are. “Are you okay?”

 

Jongin nods. He avoids the topic. “What’s that?” He asks, looking at the computer.

 

“Ah, it’s the ballad I’m writing.” Kyungsoo grins. He wrestles an arm out of Jongin’s embrace to press play. “We’re aiming for to release this before the year ends. Right before Christmas.”

 

A deep melody from a piano fills the air and Jongin’s eyes fall close to listen.

 

“Christmas, huh? So that means it’s been almost a year since we first met each other, hyung..”

 

“Huh?”

 

He sways his head to the rhythm, moving his body, and Kyungsoo’s left in the air, hanging. He watches Jongin, falling into the music. Dancing comes so naturally for him.

 

“I like it.” He beams once the song is over. “It suits you.”

 

Kyungsoo bites his lip. Let that hope dissipate. “Thank you.”

 

Jongin grabs an apple from the vase behind his laptop. It would have been more convenient if he let Kyungsoo go, but he drags the smaller with him. He likes to stay together, he reasons. That explanation is what reaches out for the hope he’s tried to will away, cramming it back inside his tiny heart.

 

Jongin bites the fruit nonchalantly. Kyungsoo notes than he didn’t even flinch.

 

“Oh, I forgot to show you!”

 

Jongin lightens up, putting the apple on the marbled island. He waddles with Kyungsoo in front of him, in his arms as they make their way to his bedroom.

 

“Remember what I said back then about buying your posters? Well, I finally got to hanging them up!.”

 

He wraps his hand around the door knob and pushes it open.

 

Kyungsoo blinks. He’s surprised to see his face on the walls.

 

From his debut single, to his two other official posters. Jongin really went and bought them all.

 

“Do you like it?” He asks. “‘What Is Love’ was really expensive, but I got the seller to lower the price for me!”

 

“Jongin…”

 

“What do you think? Is it too much?”

 

The sheen in Kyungsoo’s eyes falter just a bit, and he hopes Jongin didn’t realize. (Or maybe he did).

 

Jongin reaches inside his pocket for his smartphone. He opens the Twitter app to show Kyungsoo his account. His header is a cartoon penguin with round eyes and thick eyebrows. He has a bear icon with the words ‘DKS #1 Fan’ beside them. Kyungsoo snorts when he sees his username: Kai__88.

 

“I made this a while back to follow your fansites.” Jongin says. He’s on night mode because the brightness hurts his eyes. He scrolls through his timeline and smirks at the tweets he reads. “They miss you, hyung. Your last public appearance was three days ago.”

 

Kyungsoo tries recalling what he did that day. A radio show, probably.

 

Jongin locks his phone and shoves it back in his pocket. He pulls Kyungsoo by the waist smoothly and angles his lips close.

 

“I wonder what they’d think if they found out you were in my arms right now?”

 

“Kill you, probably,” Kyungsoo answers, and Jongin laughs unabashedly. He untucks Kyungsoo’s denim shirt from his black jeans to grope luscious thighs wantonly.

 

“Then I’d die the happiest man.”

 

\--

 

Summer is finally here. It’s stubborn and clinging onto everything—the spaces in between trees, to the tip of Kyungsoo’s nose. Hot and humid, sometimes unbearable until the late afternoon, then cool and rigid, fluttering through leaves that still have weeks to go.

 

Kyungsoo thumbs through his novel—actually Jongin’s.

 

It’s a Japanese mystery about a maths teacher trying to protect a woman who killed her husband. There’s an Americano to his right, but he pays it no mind when he turns the page, enamoured by the building tension.

 

Chanyeol enters the cafe and spots him immediately. It’s easy, really. Just look for a hunching black blob with a sad cup of hot coffee. That’s Kyungsoo.

 

He strides over and sits himself adjacent. The furniture here is mismatched. Chanyeol sinks inside a purple bean bag while Kyungsoo’s on a yellow-green dome sofa.

 

“Do Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol says. “Aren’t you going to at least say anything?”

 

No response. Kyungsoo flicks a page. Chanyeol clicks his tongue.

 

“Kyungsoo-yah, always so antisocial.” He eyes the circular plastic encasing his friend. “You’re like an egg inside an egg.”

 

Kyungsoo huffs, finally shutting his book. He places it on the wooden table and takes his Americano into his hands, blowing at the steam. “What did you want to talk about? My deadline isn’t until the 21st.”

 

Chanyeol shakes his head, “Grumpy as always,” he laughs. Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow when he leans back, sinking down. It’s the first time he’s looking down at him. Chanyeol has never looked so small.

 

“Baekhyunnie and I were thinking of getting you to sing at our wedding, actually,” he grins, with a small twinkle in his eyes, light pink on his cheeks.

 

“Which song? The one I’m writing right now?”

 

“Yeah, that one. We were talking about it the other night and Baekhyunnie said it would be great if you could sing it at our reception,” Chanyeol drifts off, smacking his lips. They look a bit dry.

 

Kyungsoo stares at the sunlight reflecting from the window pane. Black and white on the surface of his coffee. That song is almost finished, and he could definitely make it in time for the wedding in two months. But the lyrics, he thinks. They’re not even done yet.

 

“And don’t think you can hide everything from me,” Chanyeol adds, reaching over to nudge Kyungsoo’s knee from under the table. “Baekhyunnie told me everything. You’re doing well with Jongin. That’s good to hear!”

 

Kyungsoo frowns. “We’re not together.” We’re not even anything.

 

“When are you going to introduce him to me?”

 

“I told you, we’re not dating.”

 

Chanyeol only laughs harder. His distinct, ugly guffaw causes a few patrons to look over. “Bring him to the wedding! Your invitation comes with a plus one, right? We wouldn’t want you to be lonely, Soo-yah! Bring him along.”

 

This time, it’s him who kicks Chanyeol on the ankle. It takes a few seconds for the taller to recover.

 

“But seriously. Think about it, please? We wouldn’t want your people-hating ass to be alone on our special day.”

 

“You said it yourself, my people-hating ass would still be a people-hating ass, even on your wedding day.”

 

A woman wearing a brightly colored dress steps out of a sedan. They’re distracted, watching her descend the stone pathway. Chanyeol stops looking once she passes him, but Kyungsoo eyes follow her, until she disappears behind the next corner.

 

Chanyeol decides to divert the topic back to his song. “It’s good, Soo-yah. As expected, songwriters work better when they’re.. _inspired_ ,” he sneers, proud when he takes a sip.

 

There’s that word again.

 

Kyungsoo chooses not to say anything, only following suit quietly. He continues staring at the corner, thinking about what Chanyeol just told him.

 

\--

 

Jongin..

 

..is always in the moment.

 

He’s awfully sweet when he cuddles up to Kyungsoo after a day of undeserved stress. He’s considerate and mindful to brew black coffee in the morning when Kyungsoo wakes up with numbness between his thighs.

 

He presses soft kisses to Kyungsoo’s temples when he cards long fingers through his hair—in the middle of _sex_.

 

See, this is what confuses him.

 

Emotions don’t mix with pleasure because they’re not supposed to be _there_.

 

Kyungsoo is misunderstanding. He’s mistaking it for something else when really, it’s nothing. Him and Jongin are together only for the sex. He knows it, feels it, too. It’s just sex. Just that. Just is.

 

He tells himself this, over and over. And sometimes he convinces himself enough.

 

Tonight, Kyungsoo walks behind Jongin. They’re back at Han River with cans of chilled coffee. Even in the nighttime, the air is hot and sticky, unbearable on their faces.

 

Chanyeol’s words swirl inside his head while Jongin leads the way, searching for the best place to sit. He’s holding up his phone as a makeshift flashlight.

 

They settle on a grassy clearing like last time. But now they have a large picnic blanket to sit on. Spreading it out, they laugh to themselves when the wind messes up how it lands. Jongin cracks open Kyungsoo’s can for him, offering a boyish grin after. Kyungsoo ducks his head when he says thanks, praying that the night is dark enough to hide his cheeks reddening.

 

“Did you tell Chanyeol about the song?” Jongin asks. He’s facing the river. He didn’t see anything.

 

“Which song?”

 

“You know, the one you were writing.”

 

“Ah.” Kyungsoo’s eyebrows quirk in recognition. “Technically, it’s still not a song.. But yeah, I did. He wants me to sing it actually, on his wedding day.”

 

Jongin takes a sip. Kyungsoo hears the coffee swish inside his can. He measures the next words on his tongue tentatively.

 

“Hey, Jongin?"

 

“Yes, hyung?”

 

“I… want to thank you for what you did. Encouraging me to write that song, I don’t think I could have done it, or if I would have even thought of doing it if it weren’t for you.”

 

“Well, I’m honored to have inspired you, D.O.-ssi,” Jongin grins. He moves closer and starts humming. It takes a few seconds for Kyungsoo to recognize the song as his.

 

They go about making up lyrics for it, testing which words go best with what, until Jongin’s head lands on Kyungsoo’s shoulder--just the sound of him dozing softly filling the air. Gazing at his sleeping face, it comes to Kyungsoo slowly. How easy it is to be with Jongin, how natural it is to start talking, laugh at each other, and explore each others’ bodies.

 

He gazes at Jongin’s fluttering eyelashes, sighing at how they brush up, and how he finds everything about this boy beautiful.

 

Waking up to him, reading the books he recommends, cooking with him and eating everything he makes, even if they’re all terrible. Kyungsoo thinks about how marvelous it sounds. How marvelous it would be, how perfect it would be...

 

How he wouldn’t mind being with Jongin for a long time. Even with all his annoying habits, his forgetfulness, and self-centered tendencies.

 

For a second, Kyungsoo considers it.

 

\--

 

// August 2017

 

Life blurs back into meetings, recording and polishing up the same songs. Jongin is busy with ballet, so Kyungsoo starts hanging out with friends and visiting his family on the weekend more often.

 

It’s okay, he thinks. In fact, it’s better for it to stay this way.

 

Jongdae catches up quicker than he’s expected.

 

“I knew it,” he taunts. Even through the phone, Kyungsoo knows he’s smirking.

 

“You’re in love with him. Dick got you whipped that bad?”

 

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, stalking into his kitchen with no intention of doing anything. He latches a hand on the refrigerator handle loosely. In front of him, there’s a note from Jongin dated two weeks ago telling him his moans were cute the night before.

 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

 

“But you went ahead and fell for him, anyway.”

 

Kyungsoo stares blankly at week-old bread and the Tupperwares of kimchi his mom sent him. “Yeah..”

 

“You sound like a tragic hero of a bad 90’s movie.”

 

There’s some cabbage inside the vegetable bin, too. “Yeah..”

 

Jongdae gives an exasperated groan. “Why can’t you just tell him?” Kyungsoo hears him munching. Cheating on his diet again, probably. “There’s a possibility he likes you back, you know?”

 

Is there?

 

Kyungsoo tilts his head when he moves away from the refrigerator. He shuts it and idly opens the overhead cabinets one by one.

 

He’s never thought of that and he’s never considered it.

 

“Jongin doesn’t like me back. I’m sure of it.”

 

“ _Sure of it_? Why? Are you Jongin?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then don’t jump to conclusions! If I were you, I’d ask him, honestly. Put yourself out of your misery.”

 

Kyungsoo settles on top of his kitchen stool, staring at the leaves that sway outside.

 

“You make it sound like it’s the easiest thing..”

 

“It _is_ the easiest thing, Kyungsoo. You’re just thinking too much.” There’s sounds of plastic scrunching on the other line. “You can’t keep lying to him and to yourself about this. That’s why I’m telling you!”

He takes a bite out of what Kyungsoo’s sure is fruit. “I’d tell him if I were you.”

 

Kyungsoo can’t even speak up. Jongdae cuts him off quickly.

 

“Because think about it. What have you got to lose? He doesn’t like you, then okay, you can move on quickly. He likes you? Then, fantastic! You can finally date exclusively.”

 

Kyungsoo sighs. He’s right.

 

“I’m saying that like you haven’t been fucking each other for half a year now. I swear, I’m just here waiting for the day you guys finally put an end to this stupid thing. It’s getting tiring, you know? Just date already!”

 

Kyungsoo can’t believe it. It’s funny how Jongdae knows  just the right thing to say. Even he knows it, too. Prolonging his misery stuck endlessly pining is only going to mess with his mind.

 

But the thought of telling Jongin—the thought of opening up and baring everything—

 

Eventually Jongdae excuses himself to run errands and hangs up. Kyungsoo is left alone with his muddled thoughts inside his silent apartment.

 

The thing he fears the most, he realizes, isn’t confessing, really.

 

It’s Jongin’s response.

 

What would he think? What if he leves? What if he never speaks to Kyungsoo again? It’s a never-ending cycle that haunts him.

 

Kyungsoo goes back to bed and pulls his blanket up to his chin.

 

It’s frustrating. Kyungsoo presses his face inside the covers and shuts his eyes tightly.

 

Frustrating. Because maybe it’s always been more for him. Ever since the beginning.

 

But he can’t tell Jongin. No.

 

Stupidly, Kyungsoo’s realized how much he’d rather have Jongin always with him, yet feeling all the pain and the misery of never having his feelings reciprocated, over having him nowhere in his life at all.

 

Stupid. Kyungsoo falls asleep and locks everything in. His dull and pitiful feelings, enough to fit into his small, bruised heart.

 

\--

 

“Busy with your song?”

 

There are sounds of bare feet shuffling on the wooden floor when Kyungsoo stirs awake. He opens one eye from where his face is planted on the dining table and spots Jongin walking into the kitchen, shirtless. He’s covered in hickeys from two night ago—Kyungsoo’s hickeys.

 

“Thanks,” he grumbles, “Thanks for reminding me.”

 

Jongin laughs loud and warm, heading for the cupboards. It annoys Kyungsoo sometimes, how happy he always seems to be. “Your deadline is in a few days, right? Kyungsoo hyung, fighting!!” And the bastard even has the nerve to joke about it.

 

A loud clanging finally rouses Kyungsoo out of sleep. He groans when the noise continues.

 

“Are you up for omelettes?” Jongin calls out, running tap water over his favorite fry pan. “I think I figured out how not to burn them now.” It’s a gift from his older sister last Christmas.

 

Kyungsoo shuts his laptop left on Sleep Mode. It was still open from when he wandered off to dining table to work on his song a couple hours ago. “I can’t believe you made it this long without knowing how to cook.” He checks the time on his smartphone. “To be honest, I’m more surprised that people can suck bad enough to actually burn eggs. That’s real talent right there, Jonginnie.”

 

Jongin snorts from the kitchen, rolling his hips lightly. Kyungsoo recites the next lines in his head, ‘You said the same thing last night, hyung.’

 

“Sure,” Kyungsoo smirks. He throws an arm up to stretch,  the other tapping on the Naver app.

 

While he waits for it to open, his eyes drift to the kitchen. Jongin has his back turned, long, red scratches on his skin. Kyungsoo presses his lips together. Oops, didn’t think he would leave marks.

 

The app finally opens and refreshes itself. Kyungsoo tears his eyes away to read through today’s headlines.

 

The first few are regular and expected. Updates on the stock market, international sports... Kyungsoo scrolls past them but freezes once he sees a familiar name.

 

**[Ballet Prince Kim Jongin] “Kyungsoo hyung, you know I love you the most right?”**

 

His chair screeches against the floor when he stalks into the kitchen. Jongin is messily beating up an omelette mixture when they come face to face.

 

“What’s this?” Kyungsoo asks. Straight to the point. He almost but shoves his phone into Jongin’s face.

 

“Jongin..” Kyungsoo whispers, a touch of disbelief.

 

The rest of his sentence is unvoiced.

 

You can’t be.. in love with me, right?

 

The taller musters a snort, shaking his head. It sends Kyungsoo’s chest lurching, crumbling—like a cruel joke, like the time he hurled into the sea during a childhood ferry ride, like the first time he read a hate letter. Nauseous, dreadful.

 

“They’re thank-you notes for our program pamphlets, hyung. My message had that.”

 

Kyungsoo steps back, blinking. “Oh.”

 

“It’s nothing, hyung.” Jongin reasons. Like it’s the simplest thing. He taps his fork on the edge of his bowl three times. “I don’t know why you’re bothered by this. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

 

Kyungsoo opens his mouth to protest, but Jongin beats him to it. He throws a glance before heating up the pan. “You’re thinking too much.”

 

He puts in butter. Together, they watch it melt, and Kyungsoo frowns as if it’s the source of all his stress. “Besides,” Jongin continues. “We’re only doing this for fun, right?”

 

For fun, of course. That’s how it is. Fun and games.

 

Kyungsoo squeezes his eyes shut and tries to make the thought go away. That’s right, he only overreacted. Everything they’re doing is just for fun.

 

“I like you, I think you’re cute… Lucky for me, you think the same way...” Jongin smiles to himself when he pours the egg mixture in, lowering the heat when the steam hits his face harshly.

 

No, I don’t, Kyungsoo wants to answer. It’s really not. It’s even more.

 

“The only thing, though, is that we’re both at positions in our lives where we can’t exactly..” Jongin pauses, looking for the exact words. “—settle.”

 

Settle. Kyungsoo hears the word echo in his eardrums, blending with the scraping sounds in the air when Jongin pushes the spread egg into itself. Too fast, Kyungsoo thinks. You should have waited a minute or two.

 

“This thing we have, it’s okay if it isn’t serious. We have other priorities. We’re stressed and we’re busy. We don’t have time for relationships. And that’s okay. It’s okay as long we have.. This.”

 

Jongin dumps pre-cut vegetables in. They’re still frozen. Kyungsoo winces because he knows it’s going to end disastrously. Everything. But Jongin has his brows pulled together in concentration. He’s trying his hardest. Kyungsoo feels his heart grow soft, and lets him win again.

 

The ‘omelette’ looks barely edible when Jongin slides it onto a clean plate. Kyungsoo feels sorry for the craftsmen who slaved day and night to produce China that ended up having to hold a monstrosity like this.

 

Jongin lowers his head sheepishly when he observes Kyungsoo’s expression. “I guess I messed up again, huh?” He hands Kyungsoo a silver fork and brewed coffee.

 

They sit across each other. Kyungsoo sets his laptop aside and watches Jongin blow the steam off his too-warm milk.

 

It’s fine, he thinks. I’ll just push the thought away. Just like I always do.

 

Kyungsoo takes a generous bite of Jongin’s ‘omelette.’ He regrets ever chewing the moment it hits his tongue. Tears make their way to his eyes, but Kyungsoo knows he’s stronger. Than this taste, than his irresponsible feelings. He can manage a few more bites. Three, four more, he tries.

 

“What are you going to do, hyung?” Jongin asks suddenly, right when Kyungsoo’s holding his breath.

 

“Hmm?”

 

Jongin remains unmoving. If Kyungsoo meets his eyes, he’d see how serious he is. He does that more often now. Thinking too hard, jumping to conclusions. Just like Kyungsoo.

 

“What if I told you I was in love with you? What would you do then?”

 

Kyungsoo coughs violently. It’s too salty. At the same time, horribly bitter. He resists the urge to gag and wheezes through half-chewed egg until Jongin hands him a glass of water.

 

He’s crying, tears streaming down his full cheeks when the cool liquid finally glides down his throat. But the aftertaste is still there. The water is just a momentary distraction, a temporary solution, when he sniffs back his sadness, his reddened nose, masked as a natural reaction.

 

He keeps his head down when he hits his chest lightly. If Jongin’s eyes ever glazed over when they looked at him, he wouldn’t know. If Jongin ever mouthed how much he wanted to hold hands, or all the things left unsaid from the night before, Kyungsoo would never know.

 

“J-Jonginnie, you can’t just say things like that,” he forces, reaching for tissue, dabbing on his mouth. “Y-You’re the one who said it’s just for fun.”

 

“Yeah,” Jongin replies. He hasn’t eaten, but the aftertaste is bitter in his mouth too. He lifts his milk to his lips but doesn’t drink. “You’re right.”

 

When Kyungsoo finally looks at him, Jongin’s smiling. If there was any trace of sadness on his face, it’s gone.

 

\--

 

// September 2017

 

Kyungsoo sees him first.

 

He’s at a photo studio, waiting for Hwang PD to finish talking to a few people when he spots Jongin from afar.

 

He’s headed straight Kyungsoo’s way, dressed in a long-sleeved white dress shirt, dashing with his hair slicked back. Handsome, as always. And Kyungsoo loses his breath, feels his heart clench painfully, counts the seconds the stretch torturously.

 

It’s too late to escape when their eyes meet. Jongin smiles first.

 

“Hey, hyung! It’s been a while.”

 

He comes to a complete stop in front of Kyungsoo. He smells the same, laughs the same. His eyes, even, twinkle the same way. Nothing’s changed. Even how he leans close to whisper, “Missed you.”

 

Kyungsoo only bites his lip and nods when Jongin pulls away.

 

“How long has it been since we last saw each other?”

 

Two weeks, Kyungsoo thinks. But I was the only one who took note of that, obviously.

 

Jongin takes his hand and Kyungsoo anticipates how he wraps their fingers together carefully. His touch is warm and it feels so unfair. Maybe because they’ve done this so many times that Kyungsoo’s memorized how the sequence unfolds—the pads of Jongin’s fingers will settle on the back of his palm, then he’ll smile right after, and Kyungsoo’s own heart will hurt, just on cue, leading to him resenting this fleeting happiness.

 

“Two weeks,” Kyungsoo says. He pushes back the words until they’re back inside his chest. “I’m sorry I haven’t been staying in touch.”

 

“Work’s hectic?” Jongin offers. His eyes grow soft and Kyungsoo nods slowly.

 

“You should drop by sometime, hyung. I finally learned perfected my omelette. I can’t wait to show you!”

 

Kyungsoo chuckles sarcastically. “No, thanks. I wouldn’t want to get sick.”

 

“Hyuuuung!!” Jongin whines. He clings onto Kyungsoo’s arm suddenly. The action catches him off guard. Kyungsoo loses balance and almost topples over. Thankfully Jongin catches him—grip strong on his figure.

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t forget to catch his breath.

 

At least, that he can control. But the goosebumps prickling his skin, and his heartbeat thundering like a thousand drums are things he cannot hide.

 

“Hyung, are you okay?”

 

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers. Dizzy. Breathless. Distressed. “Sorry. Lack of sleep.”

 

He plants his feet firm and peels himself off Jongin’s embrace. No one says anything about how his eyes glaze over, or how his shoulders tremble when he shudders.

 

He’s so obvious, and it’s so embarrassing. Because Jongin’s stayed the same this whole time, but for Kyungsoo, it’s always been more than that. Even when he knows it’s nothing. That they aren’t anything. Can’t settle. Not together. Nothing.

 

“Kyungsoo, are you’re oka—”

 

“I’m fine, Jongin. Stop asking.”

 

“But..."

 

“Kyungsoo!”

 

Hwang PD strides over and the tension fizzles out. Jongin looks the other way when her footsteps grow closer. Like clockwork, Kyungsoo puts on an accommodating smile, introducing them to each other with careful, professional precision, and she doesn’t suspect a thing.

 

Hwang PD looks pleased, all the while darting her eyes between the two when she expresses her admiration for Jongin’s talent. Jongin returns her compliments graciously, but Kyungsoo can tell his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

When they walk away, Kyungsoo maintains his composure, while allowing his loose fists to ball up in frustration.

 

He wonders how it came to this. How he ended up fucking up everything, how he ended up with these crummy, displaced feelings. How ended up liking someone he isn’t supposed to be with—wishing, hoping, for something that could never be.

 

\--

 

It takes a few days for Jongin to call, and it’s when Kyungsoo is busy cleaning out his vegetable bin when Jongin calls.

 

He doesn’t know what to think of it, staring at the Caller ID surrounded by food that’s gone bad. Food and other things.

 

He picks up and Jongin’s voice—the one he used to love falling asleep to—fills his ears. “Hey, hyung. I’m sorry for being nosy last time.”

 

He frowns at the apology. What is Jongin guilty for? It was his overreaction, if anything. He’s too kind-hearted to let Kyungsoo overcome his stubbornness and apologize first.

 

“I want to make it up to you,” He continues, voice still warm and kind like it always is.

 

Kyungsoo digs out a stale potato from the bottom of the bin and makes a face when he raises to inspect it.

 

“I was wondering if you’re still up for omelettes? I… tried making them again today, and I think I did good. I even put spinach in, because you said that you liked them, right? I wanted to make hyung’s favorite so I put them in.. It was hard to cook, but I think I got better! The first three times were a disaster.”

 

Kyungsoo frowns at the brown spots covering the entire thing.

 

A hopeless case.

 

“So, um.. I was hoping you’d come over… I want you to try the food I made.”

 

Pretty bad.

 

“I’ll check my schedule,” Kyungsoo says. Just to sound busy, like Jongin wasn’t all he thought about this week. “Work is kind of hectic, um.. You know, with the comeback and everything.”

 

“Oh, sure, sure! I understand.” He sounds flustered. Kyungsoo dumps the potato into a plastic bag with all the other vegetables. “Uh, just tell me when you’re free.”

 

He ties the handles into a knot and lets it sit on the kitchen table. The invitation to Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s wedding is in the middle, right beside his house keys.

 

Jongdae’s voice echoes in his head: What do you have to lose?

 

\--

 

Kyungsoo wonders if this were a good idea.

 

Jongin _did_ say to just come in. But it’s different now. It isn’t how it used to be with just casually arriving, diving for the bed and fucking like mindless rabbits. Now, it’s difficult, frustrating, and frankly—too draining, with all these emotions whirlpooling inside of him.

 

In the end, he wastes ten minutes stressing over the invitation, going over the lines inside his head. Starting with “Jongin, I’m sorry for that time at the photo studio,” and then “I was wondering if you’d be free on the 31st,” finishing with, “It’s Chanyeol’s wedding, you see, and I wanted to go with you.”

 

Expecting the smell of a cooked meal and Jongin’s warm smile, Kyungsoo turns the knob open. But he’s surprised, shaken, when frantic yelling bounces from the living room.

 

He steps closer. Jongin is by the balcony with a cigarette, motioning with rapid hand movements, speaking English. Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to make of it because Jongin never smokes. At least, from what he knows.

 

Jongin throws his free arm up in the air and drops it to his side. He’s speaking too fast but Kyungsoo understands a few phrases, like “No, listen,” and “What do you mean—”

 

It’s different, yet totally real. Somehow Kyungsoo feels like he’s intruding, peeking into a side of Jongin no one else is supposed to know. Not even him.

 

He thumbs the invitation between his fingers. The wedding, he thinks. I want to invite him, but I don’t think this is a good time.

 

Jongin turns abruptly, still seething through the phone, and their eyes connect. Kyungsoo stiffens, but Jongin’s arguing doesn’t falter.

 

He rushes into the bedroom, clearly agitated. Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to do. Dumbly, he stands still, waiting. Seconds later, Jongin’s dragging out a suitcase, throwing crumpled, newly-laundered clothes in. He’s stressing, rushing in English: “Yes, I’m going!”

 

A grey shirt tumbles out of the metal casing when Jongin hangs up. He pockets his phone quickly and disappears back inside his room, muttering to himself. Kyungsoo remains frozen in the middle of the wide apartment, helpless, lost.

 

Jongin dumps in more essentials. He speaks, finally, just when five pairs of socks topple over a cream cable knit sweater. “I’m sorry, hyung, I have to leave.”

 

“What?”

 

He rises to his feet, brushing past Kyungsoo to head straight for the kitchen. It’s then that Kyungsoo notices the raggedly-cut vegetables, a cart of eggs, milk, and a navy apron on the kitchen island.

 

“It’s—It’s the Ballet Association,” Jongin stutters, rummaging through his drawers. “They want me over in London right now for the final interviews. I-I have to go—”

 

Kyungsoo feels his heart sink. He watches Jongin throw the kitchen into a frenzy. The sound of cutlery echoes just as loud as his heart cracking through the tense atmosphere.

 

“I’m getting on the next flight. I really have to—”

 

“It’s so easy for you, Jongin.”

 

Kyungsoo shudders when he exhales shakily. Jongin keeps his back turned. His movements do not cease.

 

“Hyung, I’m really sorry.  I can’t just—I’ll cook you omelettes another time, okay?”

 

“It’s not even about that, Jongin!” Kyungsoo cries, looking down at the crumpled invitation in his hands. “God, it’s anything but that!”

 

He holds back frustrated tears when he traces over the embossed text on fancy paper, the delicate ribbon. He thinks about how the lines he rehearsed in his head. How badly he wanted to go together, how hard he’d gathered enough courage to tell Jongin, finally, finally.

 

The paper on his skin is piercing through his skin. The edges are sharp, but Jongin’s stare is deadlier. There’s no turning back now. The words spill faster than he can control.

 

“You never cared about me, didn’t you? I was just a convenient fuck, there for you anytime you needed it.” He pauses to catch his breath. Jongin’s eyes look vacant. “It was so stupid of me to ever think you could look at me the same way, feel for me the same way. I can’t believe.. I can’t believe I ever thought I could be more than that.”

 

He opens his palm, and wipes at the stubborn tears that fall. Before him, Kyungsoo sees for the first time, Jongin, sweet, gentle, kind and considerate. Who took care of him, made him believe in happiness again—look at him with dark contempt.

 

“Don’t talk like you know everything. You don’t know _anything_ about me”

 

Kyungsoo feels the world shift.

 

From there, it’s a blur, a fight to make it out the door before his sobs break through. And it’s so, so like him to run away like this, to back out and escape from facing his feelings again.

 

Standing in front of the elevator, staring at his tear-stained, angry red face reflected against the polished wall—it’s then that Kyungsoo realizes.

 

He’s been baring himself to a stranger, really.

 

A stranger all this time.

 

\--

 

// September 30

 

Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s wedding is a simple, candid affair. The venue is at a hotel rooftop perched on top of Seoul.

 

An Olympic-sized pool occupies the main area, dividing the white tables where the guests will sit from the white double platform altar surrounded by warm flowers that adorn it like a wreath. In the distance, there’s a panoramic view of the Seoul skyline. It’s looks like they’re on top of the city, floating. Uninterrupted, stretching far up and wide beyond what Kyungsoo’s neck can reach.

 

The couple are wearing matching tuxedos. Both very handsome.

 

They’re all smiles when they exchange vows.

 

Kyungsoo laughs when Chanyeol’s mom hisses behind him, ‘He better not say anything stupid!’ and loses it when she groans at a bad joke attempt.

 

Cheers erupt above the applause when they finally kiss. Kyungsoo finds himself smiling, wiping off a tear before it falls. Yura holds onto his arm and sniffs. They giggle at the silliness of it all.

 

The newlyweds look so complete when they look at each other. And Kyungsoo can only smile, wistful. He wonders if he could ever have something like that too.

 

After the ceremony, he’s invited to the open stage across the pool, right beside the altar.

 

It’s time to sing.

 

From here, he can see Baekhyun’s mom and brother Baekbeom chatting happily with Chanyeol’s mother. They smile and wave at him, pumping up their fists in fighting poses. Kyungsoo strains his eyes when he remembers he forgot his glasses.

 

He looks up before starting, forcing his lungs to fill.

 

The sky above is endless. Wide and vast. Like a lot of things, really. Love and heartbreak. The things he never got to confront. He wonders if any of those is ever meant to end.

 

Piano fills the air, resonating when the song begins.

 

Kyungsoo keeps his eyes closed, feeling the melody run through with the lyrics that someone else penned. He tries to will away the thoughts that linger, but they’re there—still clinging on hopefully.

 

Eyes darting through the crowd, he finds that from this distance—people are only blurred shapes.

 

It’s okay. Maybe it’s better this way.

 

If he closes his eyes, he can still kind of see him. Jongin is there, watching.

 

\--

 

The program ends just when the sundown blurs into the evening.

 

Kyungsoo swirls champagne around in his glass. He chuckles to himself at the sight of the newlyweds attempting something idiotic. He downs his drink and sets it on a table before slipping out of the crowd.

 

He wanders off to the other side of the rooftop. Over here is a deck that’s covered in threads of yellow-white lights. In the center is a pathway lined with greenery, leading to a wooden garden arch with slithering vines, offering a different view of Seoul in the nighttime.

 

Above everything, it’s different from Han River. Above everything, it’s a completely different feeling in Kyungsoo’s chest too. Helplessly lost, drowning on air.

 

“Found you.”

 

He hears footsteps approaching but doesn’t turn around to see who it is. He’s never needed to, after all. A familiar warmth settle beside him. With it, the same cologne, the same presence..

 

“Hey, hyung.”

 

The wind passes serenely, gently tinkering with the fairy lights around. The party fades into white noise. Seoul beyond them appears far—like boats on sea.

 

Above everything, Kyungsoo feels strangely calm. When he faces Jongin, his heart grows soft for the man—who’s tired, but still charming, dashing. Enough to make his heart race without trying.

 

Jongin musters a smile, and it’s the same old him. Only this time his eyes are puffy—sad, longing. He looks like he has a lot to say, like he wants to reach out and touch Kyungsoo, but knows he shouldn’t.

 

Kyungsoo speaks first. Slowly, he says, “Back then, do you remember what you asked me? You asked me.. What I would do if you told me you loved me. Do you still remember that?”

 

Jongin licks his lips, uncertain. “Yeah…”

 

The sky is peppered with orange now. On the other end of the horizon, it’s midnight blue. Kyungsoo lets his hands fall to the side, taking a breath because it’s the last time.

 

“Back then, I couldn’t answer, because I was too full of emotions. I was full of pride, I was scared. I didn’t want to keep lying to you, but at the same time, I didn’t want to scare you off either. I didn’t answer, because you didn’t seem serious. And I guess that’s what broke me the most.. The fact that it didn’t seem deep enough for you, that maybe I was the only one falling.”

 

Kyungsoo mirrors Jongin’s broken smile when he faces him. “But now I think I know. It’s so simple, really.”  The corners of his lips falter slightly. “If you told me you loved me, I would write you a song in reply… and I already did.”

 

He chuckles, lifting a hand to brush the strands of hair that have fallen on Jongin’s forehead gently, tucking them upward. “When I was writing lyrics.. I didn’t really think much of it. I just needed words for the melody, so I penned down what seemed right. But as time passed, I started noticing how it’d be you I’d think of everytime. Before I noticed, the song became about you, Jongin. That song is for you.”

 

“When I sang it and closed my eyes, it was you behind them. When I looked through the crowd, it was as if you were there, in the center, watching me, singing along and looking so proud—not as a fan who collects my posters, not as the guy who holds me, kisses _me_ only when he feels like it, but as someone who _loves me back_.”

 

He reaches for Jongin’s hand. The fairy lights around them are beautiful. Like Jongin. Ethereal and too good to be true. Kyungsoo wonders if they flicker away, his feelings would fade as well.

 

“I really am stupid, aren’t I?” Jongin laughs this time, sputtering his feelings out into the air, dejected.

 

“You picked a horrible guy to fall in love with, hyung,” he scoffs, eyebrows twitching slightly. Kyungsoo can tell he’s holding in his tears, too. “You can’t love me, hyung. I don’t deserve you.”

 

They stand there, not talking. The lights sway from the breeze. Kyungsoo is envious, jealous again. Because the wind is weightless, yet his emotions are heavy, like an anchor at the bottom of the sea.

 

“I don’t know how to explain,” Jongin admits sadly. He turns to the remnants of the sunset and squints when he stares at it a few seconds too long.

 

“I was supposed to ask you to move with me, hyung. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come with me.. to London.”

 

Kyungsoo lets his mouth drop open while Jongin just sighs, eyes chasing after the endless sky. “I passed the audition, thankfully. It wasn’t easy, after all. But I think I made it through because of you.”

 

“I’d listen to your songs, hyung,” he sighs. “And they kept me going. You weren’t there with me, but it was as if you were. Hearing your voice everyday made me realize how… happy you made me, how you made me forget all the bad,” Jongin pauses, voice barely cracking.

 

“It was so easy to be with you, that I realized how much I wanted to stay that way forever. I realized how much you mean to me, how much you’ve _changed me_...”

 

“Jongin…”

 

Jongin tries to get the words out but his chest fails to permit. He finally breaks. Shoulders hunching forward when his tears spill over. His hands fly to his face, sobbing.

 

And Kyungsoo.. Can’t do anything.

 

“ _Jongin.._ ”

 

Kyungsoo wants to speak up. He wants to hug him and tell him everything’s going to be okay. That he wants to be part of Jongin’s life, too, even if it’s messy and chaotic. Even if it means being selfish.

 

But Jongin silences them, all of his thoughts shut away when he takes Kyungsoo’s small hands into his. Their hearts are breaking, but Seoul is so beautiful beyond them. Tiny specks of light in the distance, trying to find their way in the darkness, providing even the slightest warmth for them.

 

“When I moved here, I thought that was it. They told me to forget about London. And.. I thought I did. I did my best here, and I tried to stop thinking about it. I met you, hyung, and I was happy.. so happy..”

 

He takes in a breath and exhales slowly.

 

“But how could I forget, really? My dream… was always at the back of my head. The thought of standing on that stage, leaping up higher than anyone, and becoming the best.. it’s always been in me. I never really tried to forget, hyung. I’m so sorry.”

 

“Jongin, you don’t have to apologize for that,” Kyungsoo speaks up, squeezing his warm hand. He feels better, even the slightest, when Jongin squeezes back.

 

“You were my dream too, hyung. Being with you, touching you.. kissing you, holding you. I wish I could take you with me, but I know your dream doesn’t lie where mine is..”

 

Jongin touches their foreheads together, keeping their hands linked when his hot breath travels up the air. He presses a soft, chaste kiss to Kyungsoo’s lips.

 

It’s nothing like the thousands they’ve shared before because it’s the only one Kyungsoo’s sure means _something_ _else_.

 

Their first kiss. The only kiss nearest to what he’s always wanted—but nothing he’ll ever have again.

 

“Hyung,” Jongin whispers. In his voice, there is finality.

 

“You know I love you the most, right?”

 

This time he means it.

 

This time, Kyungsoo finally understands what it means.

 

_// October 2017_

 

Chanyeol is back from his honeymoon.

 

He Facetimed Kyungsoo with Baekhyun from the Bahamas. The couple only succeeded once because Kyungsoo wasn’t too happy being awakened at two in the morning to excited newlyweds yelling at him from across the world.

 

Now that Chanyeol’s home, it’s back to work.

 

He asks to meet Kyungsoo at the same cafe where they always hang. It’s a bit past noon when he walks in and spots the singer right away on his favorite dome sofa (or the egg sofa, as Chanyeol calls it).

 

Kyungsoo shuts his book slowly when Chanyeol sinks into the beanbag before him. It’s tricky, but he’s gotten the hang of it.

 

Sitting down without accidentally losing balance and standing up is an Olympic sport on its own, but Kyungsoo still chooses to sit here every time. Chanyeol doesn’t complain. If anything, he lets Kyungsoo enjoy this way of torturing him.

 

“Guess what!” The giant beams, digging into his pocket.

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t fight the small smile from blooming on his face. He lets himself be infected by Chanyeol’s hyperactiveness just this once.

 

“What?”

 

Chanyeol fishes out his smartphone. He shows an email dated last night with the subject: ‘A Request for Do Kyungsoo’

 

It’s from KBS.

 

Kyungsoo takes the phone in his hands.

 

He’s not in the mood to read a massive wall of text after straining his eyes with his novel, so he scrolls down. He sees a link leading to Twitter that he quickly taps on. A video plays immediately, filling the screen.

 

It’s him singing. At the wedding.

 

“It’s all over the internet, Kyungsoo! People have been praising your singing. This video is the reason why KBS reached out to us. They were so impressed that they wanted to use it for one of their dramas for next season!”

 

Kyungsoo blanks out, hand shaking.

 

He can’t hear himself singing, can’t see the notes or the comments below the videos. Not even Chanyeol when he cries out, “Kyungsoo, congratulations!”

All he sees is who the tweet is from.

 

A bear icon.

 

Kai__88.

 

\--

 

_// December 2017_

 

The doors close behind Kyungsoo when he exits the KBS building.

 

He hurries inside the van with Chanyeol behind him. They fasten their seatbelts, with Chanyeol in the driver’s seat. He maneuvers them out of the parking lot and into the streets, heading home.

 

Kyungsoo leans back on the headrest. Each comeback is exhausting, but this time it’s different.  Looking outside and seeing Seoul pass him by, he knows he’s never been fulfilled and happier.

 

After all, he was made to sing.

 

Traffic is faster at this hour. Kyungsoo is usually an early sleeper, but lately his schedule’s been keeping him up late.

 

The last time he’s been awake this hour.. He was living a completely different life.

 

Chanyeol pulls up into the highway headed for Yeongdong bridge.

 

Kyungsoo gets the urge to roll down his window, so he does just that.

 

The air smells different at this time. There’s a certain quality, a certain loneliness that Kyungsoo embraces. He trains his eyes on the tall buildings in the distance, thinking.

 

Up front, Chanyeol finds him through the rearview mirror.

 

“Some people come into your life then leave. That’s just how it is.”

 

He slows down considerately. Kyungsoo appreciates the wind at this speed, too.

 

”But Jongin didn’t just leave, didn’t he? He taught you something. I can see that in you. There’s something different in your eyes,” Chanyeol adds, snickering. He tightens his hold on the steering wheel and speeds up again.

 

Kyungsoo finally finds it.

 

He directs his gaze to a high rise condo, looking for a light that’s on.

 

\--

 

It’s Wednesday.

 

Fall has begun and the days have started turning colder.

 

Kyungsoo is granted a day-off from shuttling to and fro studio performances. He’s extremely grateful to laze around his messy bed because the sheets are new. They’re better than his stuffy navy IKEA ones.

 

He naps for a bit. When he decides he’s had enough, he gets up to brew himself some tea. The good one, from England. Then he curls up with a good book and reads for a bit. When he’s gotten tired of that, he turns the TV on and flicks through the channels.

 

He chances upon the broadcast of him on promoting on a variety show. On the screen, he knows he looks handsome with his slicked-back hair and designer clothes. It’s almost making him self-conscious now, sitting alone with his feet up in worn grey sweats, scarfing down cheap ramyun.

 

A call comes in from Chanyeol. When Kyungsoo picks up, it’s Baekhyun on the other line, inviting him to go out drinking. He hesitates for a bit before deciding—Fuck it.

 

Kyungsoo finishes his ramyun quickly. He leaves the TV on when he gets ready.

 

“D.O.-ssi, congratulations on your third consecutive win!”

 

Kyungsoo grins, his heart lips bloom. “Thank you.”

 

“A lot of people are curious about your hit song, ‘For Life.’ We’ve gathered questions from fans all over and today we’d like to ask you the things they’d like to know the most. Are you ready?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Okay, here is one from User Love0112: To Kyungsoo oppa who has released mostly RnB tracks since debut, what was the most challenging thing about singing a ballad?”

 

Kyungsoo looks up to the right and sticks his lower lip out slightly. “Hmm, I don’t think there’s much difference, really. I guess it was mainly the feelings I had when singing that made it different from my previous songs.”

 

“I see. So it’s mostly the feeling, correct?”

 

“Yes,” Kyungsoo replies. He looks flustered because of the CGI blush they put over his round cheeks.

 

“Next question is from KyungsooForLife: Hello, Kyungsoo oppa! I’ve been a fan since Tell Me What Is Love.”

 

“Thank you so much.”

 

“It’s been going around that famous ballerino Kim Jongin-ssi took part in writing ‘For Life’!! Could you tell us if this is true? I love you so much!!”

 

Kyungsoo looks off to the distance. “Yes, it’s true.” The program staff edited in solemn background music to make it more dramatic.

 

“I was going through a rough time.. when Jongin helped me. I wanted to try a new genre, and he was one of the people that supported me through the process.”

 

The screen shows the camera gliding through all of Kyungsoo’s angles in slow motion. Cheesy and over the top, complete with gold sparkles.

 

“I guess I thought I could set myself free by putting my feelings into a song. But Jongin taught me that setting myself free, would be letting go.” Kyungsoo breaks into a smile. This time, it’s genuine. One where his eyes brim with gratitude, where his smile gleams true.

 

“Being brave is letting go.”

 

The hosts offer him applause, cheering. They comment on his deep insight, and the comedian beside Kyungsoo rubs his back reassuringly. On the screen, they flash details about giving away signed posters. The last scene is Kyungsoo’s face, beaming, before it cuts to commercial.

 

He finds himself at a cramped drinking alley, knee to knee with Chanyeol and Baekhyun, with barely enough space to breathe.

 

“It’s okay to let loose here,” Chanyeol grins, pouring him more soju than usual. “No paparazzi. Only old people.”

 

They lift their glasses, toasting. The soju is good when it travels down their throats. Cold and refreshing. Kyungsoo listens, laughing along when the newlyweds bicker about the stupidest things. He ducks when Baekhyun throws a drunken punch, irritated by a lame joke Chanyeol told.

 

Deeper into the night, Baekhyun slings an arm around Kyungsoo. He fixes the collar of his dress shirt and babies him. Chanyeol excuses himself and staggers to the restroom when he gets the urge to pee.

 

Surrounded by this laid-back atmosphere, Kyungsoo feels relaxed. He wraps himself samgyupsal topped with kimchi inside a cabbage leaf. He’s chewing it carefully, wiping his fingers with tissue when Baekhyun gasps suddenly.

 

“Kyungsoo, you should see this!”

 

He hands his phone over quickly, scrolling down the screen. Kyungsoo’s eyes adjust once its steady in his grasp.

 

It’s Jongin holding up a certificate with a cheeky grin. He looks so happy, almost like a different person.

 

Below, the description reads:

 

This life has twists and turns.

But it’s the sweetest place to be, when you’re with me.

**Liked by baekhyunnee and 38,932 others**

 

Kyungsoo feels something pinch at the very center of his chest. A feeling that he’s almost forgotten, but it fades when Baekhyun slides to the next photo.

 

The second is a rehearsal studio, then a collection of selfies, candid pictures with newfound friends. Jongin looks younger, fresh, content. Kyungsoo can’t help but feel the same.

 

When Chanyeol returns, he announces that it’s time to leave. It’s almost midnight and Kyungsoo has to wake up at 6. While Baekhyun moves to gather their things, Kyungsoo remains focused. He doesn’t hesitate when he flicks over to the last photo.

 

It’s Jongin’s bedroom.

 

The picture looks like it was taken from his point of view, from the way his denim-clad legs are spread, tiny feet peeking from the hem. Inside, there’s a queen-sized bed with unmade sheets. To the right is a balcony overlooking the city.

 

“Kyungsoo, let’s go home,” Chanyeol says, tapping his shoulder. He takes his first steps with Baekhyun close behind, but Kyungsoo is unmoving.

 

He’s too busy staring, grinning with all his might, at the three familiar posters on Jongin’s wall. In the middle, he can see it there framed nicely—a fourth one, the newest, with his signature, shining the brightest.

 

 


End file.
